


Null And Void

by yiendere



Category: GOT7
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, Jinyoung is gone, M/M, Post-Break Up, and Jackson is sad, but - Freeform, this is gonna hurt a little, very sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:02:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28405206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yiendere/pseuds/yiendere
Summary: Long has been since Jinyoung left, and Jackson hasn't quite healed yet.And honestly, he thinks he never will.
Relationships: Park Jinyoung/Jackson Wang
Comments: 5
Kudos: 15





	Null And Void

**Author's Note:**

> I am SORRY for the hurt and emotional distress i'm about to cause!
> 
> This was commissioned by my dear friend Nate, they are great and thank you again for the support in my silly little writing.  
> Please remember that everything depicted in this fic and all the others I write is pure imagination and should be treated as such. In other words, let's suffer together with some Jinson!
> 
> Don't forget to follow me on twitter @sangyien

Jackson remembers him at his fingertips. If he runs his own fingers through the same corners that the other went through at a happier time, Jackson still felt his warmth.  
Running his hand through the empty space where the other person slept beside him hurt more; it was cold now, deserted and unsettling at the same time. In Jackson's chest grew anguish.

He tried to close his eyes and sleep. But on closed lids, there were images of his former lover in front of him. Breathing slowly and calmly, mouth half-open in a sleepy state that Jackson loved so much. Jackson's delicate hand teased one of the other's uneven black hairs to admire how beautiful he was still sleeping. A muscular arm wrapped Jackson's torso in a warm grip that Jackson would never be able to forget.

Now Jackson couldn't sleep. He opened his eyes, to find an empty space yet again. Only the pillow remained, and if Jackson pressed his nose to it, the smell was there. It was strong but fruity; it was so typical of the other.

But Jackson did not cry. He got up slowly from the bed he shared with him at another time. He passed the bathroom where his reflection in the mirror showed his deep dark circles, his tired and pale face. He wouldn't admit it out loud, but he knew the day would come. Jackson simply splashed water in his face to wake up from the nightmare that seemed never-ending.  
He prepared his food for another day of work alone. Gone are the days when a cocky presence filled the kitchen with laughter as he watched Jackson make that horrible shake that he insisted on drinking every morning. Now alone, Jackson was smiling at himself. Remembering those moments hurt in the bottom of his heart, but it also made him smile to know that they happened. Knowing that after a harmless laugh followed a kiss from Jackson on the other's full plump lips, warm hands holding Jackson's face to kiss him deeply and with love.

Love. 

He wouldn’t say it out loud, but love was nothing more than bullshit.

Walking through the streets of the troubled city filled with fast and in a hurry faces made Jackson's days harder to tolerate. He watched the couples walking hand in hand, eyes filled with something Jackson had already felt. He tightened his grip on his backpack, something painful wanting to loosen inside him. But he would not allow it.

The entry into the same company where he worked for some time now was the same as always; the older lady sitting at the desk wished him a good day with a sincere and wrinkled smile on her face, and Jackson returned the happiness as best he could. Jackson was like that. He might be breaking apart, one small piece by one, but no one would have to see him that way.   
Jackson bowed to each of his superiors until he reached the elevator to go to his post. Sometimes he just wanted to put down everything he had on his desk, and leave no evidence that any memories of the other had been there.

A small wrinkled paper hidden behind one of the files always caught Jackson's attention. He always opened it, the words written there already memorized one by one. He read them anyway, hoping that time would turn back and everything would happen again.  
The other's handwriting brought back the memory that Jackson had captured his attention enough for him to ask him if he wanted to go and drink coffee after work. And Jackson squeezed the paper between his hands, so hard that his fists turned white with anger. Jackson put the paper back down behind then too many files he had stored, going back to work.

The late-afternoon rain cooled Jackson's tired face as he stepped out of the building's glass door. At another time Jackson would have hated that it rained this much, but now he enjoyed the rain. It kept him company on the way home; small and persistent, always present and landed on every corner of Jackson’s clothes. At least he didn't walk alone, he tried to convince himself. On better days, the other intertwined his fingers with Jackson's, a smile on his face as he watched Jackson blush. His shoulders touched each other on their walk home, telling stories of how their day had been like, even if they worked in the same place. And the other listened attentively, nodding his head with every word of Jackson. It was comforting to have someone so present and willing to listen.

If only the rain could speak.

Entering the house and closing the door without being attacked by breathless kisses was torture for Jackson. Now he just went into the house, put his backpack down somewhere accompanied by his shoes, went up to his room and sighed when he didn't feel anyone. There were no longer strong arms throwing him to the bed, desperate body wanting more, crawling over Jackson and kissing him as if they would never see each other again.

Never see each other again.

He just lay in bed, with no intention of sleeping after a long day at work, even without food in his stomach, no. 

Jackson lay down in Jinyoung's place.

His body pressed against something that no longer existed in his reality; his hands gripped something that was no longer used, that pillow brought too many memories and Jackson hated it but did not have the courage to throw it away.  
He inhaled Jinyoung's scent. The pillow was starting to feel wet. His heart gave up resisting, tears ran down his face as he remembered the one he knew to be the one.  
“I just miss you so much” his sobs were muffled by the pillow, speaking to the material as if that brought Jinyoung back. His head lifted slightly, trying to breathe, but he could only sob like a child. Jackson stood up, the back of his hands wiping tears from his face. He walked to his closet.  
A lot had remained the same as Jinyoung had left; everything was impeccably arranged as the other liked, and Jackson was relieved to see everything as it was. It looked like he was still there, and that meant comfort to him. From the corner of his eye, he saw the sweater he was looking for. It was Jinyoung's favorite, it was warm and made of wool, very much Jinyoung’s style. Jackson let out a sad laugh through cries. He took the sweater and hugged it as if it was Jinyoung’s body in his embrace.

He remembers the last day that Jinyoung had worn it. He remembers the beginning of the end, the initial cry that started the whole nightmare that Jackson now lived. He remembers Jinyoung apologizing between desperate sobs, a red face with shortness of breath, and fear of what was coming. He remembers the two of them falling on the bedroom floor and crying in each other's arms for hours. But Jackson also remembers Jinyoung's suffering, and it broke him inside.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to be true to yourself? To live your life as you do now, happy?” Jackson had been furious, confused, sad and most of all heartbroken “God fucking dammit, Jinyoung”  
“You know it’s not that easy” he spat words into the air with certain violence that deep down he had no intention of sounding so mean, sobs falling from his lips “It was never easy from the start, and you know that… I told you they wouldn’t accept it.”

And so it was.

Jinyoung had decided that confronting his family with his reality was a solution, but his family didn’t see it that way. His truth weighed on the hearts of those he loved most, and words that no son has to hear were thrown at Jinyoung. An ultimatum had been issued to Jinyoung, and he was afraid. Afraid of living something that those he loved most hated.

Jinyoung decided to leave. And leaving meant Jackson had to stay behind.

And that sweater still weighed with Jinyoung's hurt and pain. Nothing had changed. Jackson looked at it, callused fingers stroked the fluffy material on the sweater. He no longer wanted to cry, the tears had dried on his skin and were now uncomfortable on his face. He sighed, thinking about the other's suffering and how he just wanted to help him. But Jinyoung had made his choice, and Jackson was not part of it.

Bringing the sweater with him to the bed, Jackson placed it on Jinyoung's place. He looked at it one last time before reality hit him and he would still have to go cook, shower, and function like a normal human being. One more sigh fell from his chest as he went downstairs to the kitchen.

The truth was, Jackson had no mind to think about what to eat, much less to think about if he was hungry or not. It was at these times that he missed Jinyoung the most because he took care of him in a way that Jackson didn’t know how to do for himself. But he shook his head to get rid of the longing for the other and got to work.

If we count on the fingers of our hands how long Jinyoung had left to live close to his parents, nine months had passed. Jackson sometimes did not want to believe that he had spent so much time without him, but the truth is that Jinyoung now lived another reality. Jackson often wondered if Jinyoung was happy; if the decision to live a life that was not his made him truly happy. If the choices made by his parents and not him had left him fulfilled and satisfied. 

Deep down, Jackson knew he wasn't.

But Jackson preferred not to think about it. He preferred to focus on the task ahead and try to prepare something to eat even if it was a sacrifice for him.

The characteristic sound of the ringtone from his phone caught his attention out of nowhere, knowing that he had left the damn phone in the living room. Wiping his hands and saying too many times that “I’m coming, alright alright alright I know shut up!” as if the phone would understand him, Jackson read the unknown number that appeared on the screen.

Frowning, Jackson still hesitated to take the call, but he still did “Hello?”

For a few seconds that seemed interminable where there was only a somewhat calm but anxious breathing coming the other way, Jackson wondered if this was a dumb prank “You know if this is Yugyeom or BamBam, can I just say it’s a really shitty—“

“I’m outside”

And at that moment his hands froze, his body was immobile and petrified in the same place while he was processing what he had heard.  
In any other life, Jackson would always recognize that voice and there was no mistaking it, it was him. Jackson wanted to answer, wanted to tell him to go fuck himself for leaving him for months but at the same time, he knew how much the other had suffered with his own mind. And yet, Jackson was incredulous that Jinyoung was at his door.

Wait, Jinyoung was at his door.

Jackson had probably never run out of the house so fast, his eyes didn't deceive him and Jinyoung's car was actually parked outside his house. He didn't know whether to run to him, or wait for him, or cry, or laugh, or run away.  
But he didn't have to think about what to do for a long time because right after that the beautiful figure of Jinyoung got out of the car, slamming the door with such force and Jackson saw in his face how much he wanted to cry. And the two went to meet one another, bodies slamming against each other, Jinyoung's arms squeezing him so tightly that Jackson thought it would break him at any moment. And if Jackson had to die from suffocation due to Jinyoung, so be it. It was him, his Jinyoung.

He pulled him away just enough to cup his face in his hands and look at him. He hadn't shaved, and his eyes were weeping with tears, and Jackson smiled. He was beautiful.

“You’re here… Why?” Jackson asked between deep breaths, he felt like he just ran ten marathons and his heart was about to give up.  
“I’m sorry” out came a broken cry, hands placed firmly on Jackson’s shoulders as if he was afraid the other would run away from him. How ironic.  
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry”

But it no longer mattered. Heavy, heartless apologies didn't matter anymore; Jackson didn't want to hear about an apology. He wanted Jinyoung.

And there he was, in his arms again like the first time.

If we count through the fingers of our hands the months and years that Jackson and Jinyoung planned to spend by each other’s side and loving each other, we wouldn’t have enough fingers to tell the story.


End file.
